The Quillian Sector

"A humorist! I knew you were a hard man but never that! Earth!" He laughed again, "You know as well as I that you talk of a legendary world. One of many-El Dorado, Bonanza, Jackpot, Avalon-the list is long. Myths invented by men yearning for paradise. Earth!" The navigator shook his head. "The name alone should warn you of its nature. Every world contains earth. They are made of it. Crops grow in it. Who would name a world after dirt?"

"It exists."

"In the mind."

"In space somewhere. It is real."

"Of course." Jumoke sobered, his tone gentle. "If you say so, my friend. Who am I to argue? We must talk more on the subject, but later. Now I have work to do in the control room; sensors to check and instruments to test. You understand?" Then, as he stepped toward the door of the cabin, he added, "A word of advice. The captain has little use for those who are less than serious. If he should ask about your home world, it would be best to lie a little. Tell him you were born on Ottery, for example. Or Heeg. They, at least, are in the almanac."

Outside, the passage was deserted. As Jumoke headed toward the control room, Dumarest moved in the other direction toward the hold and engine room. As handler, it was his job to check the stowing of cargo and to operate the caskets designed for the transportation of beasts and often used to carry those riding Low; people traveling doped, frozen and ninety percent dead, risking the fifteen percent death rate for the sake of cheap transportation.

Now the caskets were empty and the cargo, a mass of bales and metal-strapped boxes, already in place. Dumarest checked the restraints, tightening and adjusting as needed. More cargo could arrive before they left, but he doubted it. From what Egulus had told him, the main trade of the Entil was in carrying passengers. Some of them could have personal luggage, and maybe personal packets of stores and cargo, but they would arrive with their owners.

Crouching, Dumarest checked the caskets, tracing the wires and pipes, rising to swing open the transparent lids, closing them and operating the controls and watching the gauges showing the drop in temperature. As he lowered the lid of the last, he saw the woman standing in the open doorway leading to the engine room.

She was tall, with a helmet of glinting blonde hair, the tresses cropped to hug the head and to frame the wide, strongly boned face. The shoulders were wide, a support for the muscles supporting the prominent breasts which thrust unmistakable mounds beneath the tunic of her uniform. Her eyes were oval pools of vivid blueness, her ears small and set tight against the head, the nose a little uptilted above a generous mouth. The chin matched the cropped hair in its masculine determination and when she spoke, her voice held a deep resonance.

"Satisfied?"

"Number two needs some attention to the hinges."

"And?"

"Number four is sluggish on the intake."

"Full marks," she said. "Not many would have noticed that. At least you know your caskets. Ridden in them often?"

"Too often."

"It's a hell of a way to travel." Stepping forward, she extended her hand in Jumoke's gesture. Touching it, he found it soft yet firm and, now that he was close, he caught the scent of her perfume. It was floral, slightly pungent, accentuating her femininity but at variance with her general appearance. A sign that she was not attempting to emulate the male, perhaps. A personal touch which gave her an individuality, and rescued her from the anonymity of a uniform. "So you're the new man. Glad to have you with us. I'm Dilys Edhessa. The engineer. You?" She nodded as he gave his name. "Well, you're an improvement on Gresham. That's his uniform you're wearing. It's too tight at the shoulders and too loose around the waist but I can fix that for you."

"What happened to him?"

"Gresham? He tried to hold out and was caught cheating by a couple of punters. Miners from Cham. He made the mistake of trying to get them and one shot him from under the table. You want to watch out for that, by the way. Make sure they keep their hands where you can see them. We carry some wild types, at times."

"And Gresham?"

"As I said, he'd been holding out on the common fund so when he got himself killed Yarn wasn't too concerned. He took a bribe from the miners to forget what had happened and we dumped Gresham into the void." She made a gesture as if brushing dirt from her hands. "He was no loss."

"Anything else I should know?"

"I doubt it. You've met Jumoke and Allain? And you know the captain, of course. Now you've met me. That's the lot. We run the Entil. Including you, naturally."